Comms linked already – makes things simpler.

“Understood,” answered Callie, even as she flicked through the channels on the radio module linked to her earpiece. She allowed herself a smile down at Mikey. “Chin up, soldier – wrapped up soon enough.”

Liar. You of everyone know how fast complications can reach out to throttle you.

Callie shoved that thought to the back of her mind, replacing it with thoughts of lines of sight and hard cover as she retreated towards the centre of the roof. Another part of it focused on the portal she was conjuring; another, instinctive, secured Charter and her rifle; and yet another finally found the right channel.

That she had the right channel for Manila’s branch of the Philippine National Police would hopefully be put down to her training and work with the Philippine Army and then Task Force Obsidian rather than anything more surreptitious.

“This is Private Lidmann to the police tasked here,” Callie said, resisting the slight chill and bluster of wind as the portal snapped open to a couple of hundred metres above the camp, simultaneously she unclipping her current magazine to fit a new one, entirely filled with red-tipped bullets. “I’m your eye in the sky; move in on the targets I mark. Primary weapons neutralised but they may still have sidearms.”

Thank the refugees for turning the undergrowth and soil to dust; little risk of grass fires… He just punched a truck. Callie blinked as she settled herself into position, gazing through Charter to assess the battlefield below. That route’s gone. Good.

Though. A quick adjustment to her spyglass to zero in on a man crouched behind the corner of a building, the wreck of his motorcycle behind him, clearly hoping to make a run for it around the beached technical. Callie tutted, then expanded her view again. They’re already moving to cut it off; makes this easier. “West, a dozen metres from the perimeter breach.”

She squeezed the trigger. Another gunshot joined those echoing across the camp – and then, a moment afterwards, distance made from her weapon at the speed of shot, a miniature comet lit and streaked down, glowing orange-red even in the light of the sun. It landed on target in a puff of dust and tiny, round specks heated and cooled to glass, three paces ahead of a suddenly scrambling dismounted gunman.

Callie shifted her position; zoomed; zoomed out. “South-West, fleeing into a shelter seven metres East from the main crossroads. BANG; another trail of fire. Shifted her position. Zoomed; zoomed out. “North, injured, crawling along the perimeter fence. BANG. Shifted her position. Zoomed… Zoomed out. “Centre, group of three, moving to reinforce technical. Suppressing.” A burst of three rounds, slamming into the ground inches ahead of them. She blinked the sweat out of her eyes.

The mighty A-rank Arms Master, cowering above the field…

This is where I’m most useful, forcing chaos into coordination.

…and where I won’t get anyone hurt.

Intermission Four - Darkest Hour (End)

La Trinidad de Manila Academy - 12/1/2022, 8:29, UTC+8



An interaction that would have to be continued in a Flashback...

Refugee Camp North of Manila - 12/3/2022, 11:05, UTC+8 (Three Days Later)

The foes were suppressed in the next few minutes, although this skirmish showed that insurgents, despite not having Noble Arms, were not to be underestimated. As the survivors of the warlord forces were arrested, it was all Crown Prince Shinyahito could do to stop the refugees from lynching the captured foes; due process had to be observed lest they become no better than the enemy. His next words to Cristina were, "Yes, I'm planning something. Maybe a visit to Lubao and Flores Pagkanta Corriente; she's caused enough trouble to our rear areas."

He then mused, "It's best that my sister not participate in that visit, however, a Japanese Imperial Princess burning down a Philippine City will dig up memories of the 1940s not related to Noble Arms. Speaking of that... Do you know that most of the first Japanese Arms Masters gained their Noble Arms by realizing that their war was wrong?"

Another interaction that may need to be turned into a flashback...

Mission Five - La Naval de Manila, Segunda Vez/Segundo Beses/Second Time

BRP Jose Rizal - 12/25/2022, 5:03, UTC+8



Built by the South Koreans for the Philippines in much better times, the BRP Jose Rizal was a smooth, tall ship that looked like a mobile fortress on the horizon, whose battlements were brimming with missiles and autocannons, and whose raised deck was able to hold a helicopter. Now, it was the centerpiece of what remained of the Philippine Navy, which was waiting to rendezvous with the combined Korean and JSDF fleets, as well as a US Navy Carrier Group. Rear Admiral Adrian Absalo, Task Force Obsidian's patron and most reliable source of support, had gotten sick due to the stress of his job; he hadn't been the same since the failed 'diplomatic meeting' at Phnom Pheh.

This put the Philippine Navy under the command of Admiral Yi Yeol, an old grandfatherly man with a finely-groomed white beard and mustache, who had chosen to meet with Task Force Obsidian's remaining members in the BRP Jose Rizal, instead of his own Sejong the Great-class Destroyer. Accepting the hospitality of the Filipino Ship's briefing room, the Admiral faced Myron and the much-diminished group of Arms Masters, now bereft of Nico Makri and Lei Qingshe, as well as 'Sister' Marta Rocha and, of course, their leader, Noel Alonso.

"People of Task Force Obsidian; those who fought so hard and so long and made so many sacrifices," Admiral Yi said in a solemn tone that reverberated with respect; his English was near-perfect. "We stand at a crossroads. Nico Makri has vanished, while Lei Qingshe has been forced to fake her death or is Superbia's prisoner. First Lieutenant Noel Alonso himself is in the hands of the enemy, but a mission is underway to rescue him; you can thank Myron for guilting the Seven Virtues to do it for free."

His eyes met Myron's; the Special Agent bowed down in acknowledgement. Then the Korean Admiral continued, "Now, for the game plan."

There was a projector screen in the briefing room of the ship, which showed everyone a map, complete with estimated dates, times, and predictions of allied and enemy movements.



"As you can see," Admiral Yi Yeol spoke, "I've estimated the simplest, yet also the most effective courses of both our naval forces and the enemy's. Both sides' strategies are simple - The Chinese want to break us before we can fully organize and consolidate, then push on to join up with warlord forces in the City of Lubao, assuming it has not fallen to the PGNS' forces by now - The Crown Prince has decided to help take that place and arrest Flores Pagkanta Corriente, by the way. But enough tangents; we've rendezvoused and gathered, and we can now push west, and meet the Chinese PLA Navy at a place of our own choosing."

Looking at Myron and the rest, the Admiral continued his briefing with, "The BRP Jose Rizal and Task Force Obsidian will be essential to this; the PRC's 'Chinese Zodiac' has been much diminished as well, and we expect you to strike the killing blow. Cao Bao, one of their prime assets and the one who we believe was responsible for Qingshe's... disappearance, may also be in the Chinese Flagship, the Guangdong-class Nuclear Aircraft Carrier. If the reports are true, kill him. If they're not, just put down the remnants of the Zodiac. Either way, the dates on the map are accurate; they do show that you have two to three days before the battle starts - I recommend that you talk among yourselves, prepare, and pray for victory."

@Chiro@Nimbus@Gerlando@Digmata@ctrlsaltdel@Ducksworth

Tuán and Lotus Squadron were coming in to land at the Villamor Air Base in Manila after another successful mission. All they knew was that another mission was lined up for them already, but not what it was. They had to land in the Phillipines to find out.

Tuân never expected to have command over a squadron, but now he did. But commanding a squadron came with responsibilities. He was responsible for everyone in his squadron, whether they liked it or not. He had to make sure they all came back safe from whatever shit hole Command sends them too.

Since Tuân was the first to take off, he would be the last to land. That's how he preferred it. He would lead them off the ground and follow them down when landing. It was procedure for the first to go up is the last to come down, so he made sure the squadron followed his lead.

One by one, his squadron members landed their aircraft before it was finally his turn. He lowered the landing gear and extended the flaps before lowering his Phantom Bridge down towards the runway and flared slightly, allowing the rear landing gear to touch down first before gently lowering the front gear to touch down. He then slowed down his aircraft to taxi speed and left the runway, leaving his aircraft parked on the flightline. He made sure to switch off the radar and render it safe before leaving the cockpit.

Before he could even get out of his flight gear, a Filipino officer called him over. Turned out he was needed at the academy to be briefed on his next mission. He was led to a vehicle just outside the barracks and watched as the driver leaned over and opened the front passenger side door and told him to get in.

After a ten minute drive, more officers greeted him at the door and led him to a conference room upstairs. He entered the room and noticed that no one was there. Before he could ask where everyone was, a bright blue light appeared on the other side of the room.

As he approached, the light formed a ring and began expanding. An image of a room with gray walls appeared in the centre of the ring, a lot like a room that would be found on a modern warship. He heard voices and what sounded like footsteps coming from the room. He heard someone call his name and rank and immediately looked around, thinking someone else had entered the conference room. He realised that whoever had called him was on the other side of the image.

"Are you in whatever this is?" Tuân said, not understanding what was going on. He was asked to step through by the voice inside. He turned to see the officer behind them nodding. He slowly stepped into the image and appeared in the gray room on the otherside.

He looked to his left and saw a Filipino admiral, much older than himself. "Admiral." Tuân said before saluting. The admiral returned the salute. Before Tuân could even ask, the admiral said that the portal would be explained shortly. Tuân nodded and joined the other pilots.

SPC "Mikey" Rangel

---

BRP Jose Rizal - 12/25/2022, 5:03, UTC+8

---

Mikey stood near the back of the crowd. Her arms were folded; a pair of sunglasses sat atop her head, revealing the dark circles under her eyes. Those eyes were focused on the tactical map--specifically on the estimate strength of the Chinese forces.

You heard the Admiral, Mikey. Forget about "the war"--if those troops and their supplies land in Lubao, that... what happened at the refugee camp is going to happen again, and again. Mikey shuddered a bit--she hoped no one else noticed.

As the post-briefing chatter started up, she checked her watch. 5:03. Still almost twelve hours until Christmas in California. Mikey had been instructed when she was deployed that she wasn't allowed to call her family for the duration; she wondered if many of the postcards she had sent had made it back.

She hoped at least some had.

Mikey reached up, absentmindedly fiddling with her sunglasses. "Well," she finally said, "question one: do we have a plan to get aboard the Guangdong yet?" She pointed at the map, tracing the distance between the two fleets on the battle plan. "They're going to have, like, at least six ships of dudes there who want us to not do that, and I don't think asking nicely is going to work."

Mikey reached up, absentmindedly fiddling with her sunglasses. "Well," she finally said, "question one: do we have a plan to get aboard the Guangdong yet?" She pointed at the map, tracing the distance between the two fleets on the battle plan. "They're going to have, like, at least six ships of dudes there who want us to not do that, and I don't think asking nicely is going to work."

“I could drop us onto their bridge from a couple hundred klicks away if we needed to,” Callie pronounced, trying to maintain her focus on the part of her mind that hadn’t heard Qingshe’s name in the same space as their foe’s and tightened her grip on Charter, “just the same as the Mischief Reef operation. In fact, if I could get any kind of visual on Cao Bao at distance, we could launch a decapitation strike – deliver Sergeant Janssens right to him, neutralise his Arm and eliminate him before he can react. Then we could either return the same way and rest before the battle proper, or try to push that advantage and see if we can cripple their assets while our own move in.” She glanced at Henri, grimacing. “Only issue I see besides the uncertainty of when the target appears is deploying anything like a meaningful force so you’re not totally isolated, sir. Activating Fighting in Shade means you shut down any portal close enough for the ambush to work, and I can’t maintain one wide enough to let several people through at once at those distances. Either we don’t deploy enough to neutralise the target or we give the target too much time to be sure of…”

Callie trailed off as her mind snagged on something – then snapped her fingers. “Cristina. How many people do you think you could take with you, either by blinking with them or in your pocket dimension? If you could transfer them through the portal, that’d solve the problem handily – enough members of TFO to maintain a perimeter, even just special forces if we’re being conservative…” She leant back, folding her arms. “And then… I’ve been working on something and I think I can entirely sabotage their carriers’ take-off architecture without compromising my other capabilities. I’d imagine our Lotus flyboys would take air superiority with even less difficulty than usual if we could completely cut off Chinese reinforcements in the skies.”

Not even too big a lie – just that the things being worked on were US politics and Chinese escalation, not her own abilities…

She turned to Yi, clasping her hands behind her back. “Admiral, sir, if these charts are accurate, I could theoretically have us there or disrupt enemy air power now, barring however much time preparations took. Practically, we’d need to wait for a moment that Cao Bao’s on their flagship’s bridge or top deck, if he’s there at all, but if he makes that appearance then we could strike at any time from now ‘til fleet-to-fleet contact, if you felt it tactically sound.”

@Digmata @Chiro

---

Maybe a visit to Lubao and Flores Pagkanta Corriente; she's caused enough trouble to our rear areas."

He then mused, "It's best that my sister not participate in that visit, however, a Japanese Imperial Princess burning down a Philippine City will dig up memories of the 1940s not related to Noble Arms. Speaking of that... Do you know that most of the first Japanese Arms Masters gained their Noble Arms by realizing that their war was wrong?"

Another interaction that may need to be turned into a flashback...

"And removing two s would somehow make the optics better." Cristina replied staring at prince with clear disappointment

"You better leave that battle to the army, things would be less messy that way." she spoke to the prince as she looked at her sword, she heard him speaking about the reasons how the Japanese get their first Arm Masters. To be honest she thinks it was propaganda but she decided to keep her mouth shut.

"Quite an interesting trivia." the uneducated girl spoke.

---

Callie trailed off as her mind snagged on something – then snapped her fingers. “Cristina. How many people do you think you could take with you, either by blinking with them or in your pocket dimension? If you could transfer them through the portal, that’d solve the problem handily – enough members of TFO to maintain a perimeter, even just special forces if we’re being conservative…” She leant back, folding her arms. “And then… I’ve been working on something and I think I can entirely sabotage their carriers’ take-off architecture without compromising my other capabilities. I’d imagine our Lotus flyboys would take air superiority with even less difficulty than usual if we could completely cut off Chinese reinforcements in the skies.”

"If I use my Mirage Space, I could carry everyone in this room and some more. My Noble Arm is limited by time, volume and indiscrimination, not body count." she answered to Callie as she keeps an ear to the planning of the operation.

"But if we use that, we would need to move quickly. I cannot hold the Mirage Space and stay outside for long, it's like keeping a bottle of water raised. Easy at first, then it gets tiring the longer it took."

Then he turned towards Callie, Henri, and Nil, glancing at them long enough to let them know one ear of his' was paying attention to their conversation, and walked towards the three before adding, "You know, Henri, I've done my own digging, and I must say, a Noble Arm that is oriented towards negating other Noble Arms? If this were the 'old days', the Disablers - My old group - would be considering you as a grudging ally."

His eyes then glinted as he continued, "I made mistakes in their service. Remember what motivated those mistakes, no, atrocities. No one is immune from the urge to participate in the cycle of oppression and revenge - I say this not out of scorn, but out of concern."

Henri thought about Myron's words. The Disablers, an anti-Arms Master extremist Group using guerilla tactics against their enemies.

"You know" he finally said, "I'd want to say I am not like that. But to be honest, I cannot say for sure."

Henri looked at his arm. He didn't activate Leonidas, but nonetheless brushed his fingers through the air, like the shield's ghost was there.

"Noble Arm symbolizes the Arms Master's character and desires. I'm not sure an anti-NA can exist without a certain level of antipathy towards other Arms or their Masters. I mean, I don't exactly hate Arms Masters, but I've always had reservation towards them. Might be why Leonidas is a shield, rather than a sword or bow"

Henri couldn't help but sigh. "Rich coming from me, I know. Still, sometimes I wonder if Noble Arms wouldn't trust each other either, if they could think. Whatever the case, I'll keep my eyes open, in front of the mirror, or otherwise."

That was a good question, was there a reason to come to this table specifically? Unsure.
There was something about the familiar faces? Or what Callie asked before? No, she wouldn’t have dodged if she wanted to get spilled with soda.

Taking a step back, what brings her here? The answer was rather simple.
”Food.” Nil answered rather bluntly and proceeded to stare at the other two Arms Masters on their chair, and Myron too once he walked in.

She had no idea what this talk about Disbablers was all about.

Henri chuckled a bit, "Yeah, good point. Cafeteria is a cafeteria, in the end."



Henri returned from his thoughts, still chuckling. Those were some nice times back in Manila, but it was time to return to the here and now. He listened intently, as the Admiral told of the plans.

It was a good strategy, a well-thought one. Of course, nothing was ever fool-proof, with men being what they were. But that didn't mean Henri was demoralized. Far from it. He had gotten out of nasty situations before, and this was no different.

Time to talk operations.

"If I use my Mirage Space, I could carry everyone in this room and some more. My Noble Arm is limited by time, volume and indiscrimination, not body count." she answered to Callie as she keeps an ear to the planning of the operation.

"But if we use that, we would need to move quickly. I cannot hold the Mirage Space and stay outside for long, it's like keeping a bottle of water raised. Easy at first, then it gets tiring the longer it took."

"Worth a try, at least" Henri added to the conversation, "Bernardino gives me and a chosen number of regular soldiers a lift and Lidmann opens a portal. Once on Guangdong we are released and I activate Leonidas. Then comes the hard part. Once Fighting in Shade is active, there's 30 second period to neutralize Cao Bao and secure our position on the deck."

Henri considered the next move. "Of course, that is only the first part. Assuming the decapitation succeeds, what next? Do we evacuate back to Jose Rizal, or try and seize Guangdong?"

BRP Jose Rizal - 12/25/2022, 5:03, UTC+8

Nil would have gladly stayed in the lower deck and waited this out, unfortunately a battle was coming and the team had to meet with the Admiral first. At least the bridge and control room were pretty well enclosed with no risk of ever falling overboard, but if a fight was going to happen this wasn’t a place you could shoot out from, Nil didn’t want to go out on the open top of a ship, but that was the most likely outcome.

She had moved on from the skirmish in the refugee camp remarkably quickly, just a couple days after and she had almost forgotten about the incident. Still she didn’t forget about the ongoing war, which became obvious as Task Force Obsidian gathered to be briefed by the Admiral, who also showed the warplans on screen.

The moment multiple people chimed in to strategize, Nil completely lost the plot and just stood at the outskirts of the conversation, surely they’ll come to a verdict on their own.

---

Griff stood a little behind Mikey, hands in his pockets, eyes flicking between the tactical map and the faces around it. Arrows crisscrossed the screen, names and call signs stacked over a coastline he didn’t recognize. The Admiral spoke in measured tones, Callie filled in details, Cristina offered logistics. The rest followed suit.

Griff tried to follow. He really did. But most of it passed through him like static. He didn’t know ship classes or how long it took to breach a carrier deck. He didn’t know the distance between a good plan and a dead one. What he knew was that when things started, people screamed. That thirty seconds in a real fight could stretch into a lifetime, or vanish before you realized you'd missed it. They were going to hit a flagship. They were going to kill someone important. And if it went wrong, it would go wrong fast. That was pretty much all that he understood.

Griff’s eyes found the edge of the map again. Just a line. One more distance he’d be asked to cross. He shifted his weight and scratched lightly at the rim of the bracer clamped to his arm. It hadn’t shifted or changed since the camp. It just sat there, silent, cold, unmoving. Again. And still, the thought crept in. What if it didn’t respond next time? What if it did, and he lost control again? He swallowed it down, just like he had everything else since the breach. Instead, he stepped forward slightly and spoke. Not loud, not challenging. Just enough to be heard.

“If we’re landing on a bridge or a top deck, it’s not going to be open space. Not really.” His tone was steady, eyes locked on the map but not really seeing it. “Fighting that close... you don’t get a second chance if you slip. Especially not with all of us packed into one spot.” He tapped the table once with his knuckle, the motion brief and rhythmic. “And what happens if Cao Bao’s not there when we land? Do we have a plan for that?”

He didn’t expect an answer. Maybe someone would have one. Maybe they wouldn’t. He was used to that part, being the one who asked questions out loud that others didn’t want to say. He drifted back a step, eyes lowering slightly, and let the conversation move on. But his gaze found Mikey’s silhouette beside him again. The faint furrow of her brow. The way she stood with her weight shifted slightly forward, alert, even when exhausted.

She hadn’t said much either, she didn’t need to. Just having her there grounded him more than he wanted to admit. He wasn’t sure what had shifted between them exactly, not after the camp, not after that night on the roof, but something had. Something small, and quiet, and certain.

He wasn’t just standing here for the mission, he was standing here because she was too, just in case she needed someone steady beside her again. Without thinking, almost unconsciously, he shifted his stance. One foot slightly forward, like hers. Shoulders square, just like hers.

Intermission Four - Darkest Hour (Flashbacks)

La Trinidad de Manila Academy - 12/1/2022, 8:30, UTC+8



"That's all I can ask, then," Myron said to Henri. "Thank you."

---

Refugee Camp North of Manila - 12/3/2022, 11:06, UTC+8 (Three Days Later)

Crown Prince Shinyahito nodded, a little disheartened, then spoke, "Points acknowledged. Here's hoping the Philippine Government of National Salvation isn't so short-handed that they'll need me anyway, then."

---

Mission Five - La Naval de Manila, Segunda Vez/Segundo Beses/Second Time

BRP Jose Rizal - 12/14/2022, 5:10, UTC+8



Admiral Yi Yeol answered Callie's query first, his eyes glinting a little as though eager to seize a chance for victory, but his gaze cooled as he realized that, "It would be best to save Task Force Obsidian's attack on the Guangdong for when the fleet has made contact; even with Huo Ren dead and the Danggal Clan back under the fold of the Philippine Government of National Salvation, the enemy still have reams of information on us and our capabilities. Add that to the fact that while we have an American Fleet backing us up, I am not officially commanding them, and their commander can seize on any erratic decisions as an excuse to leave."

He then continued, "That, and Lotus Squadron still needs to clear the skies of the enemy. Speaking of Lotus Squadron, you just missed them; they're docking near the La Trinidad de Manila Academy, where they will receive their orders: To clear the skies of Chinese Aircraft in the days before, during, and after the naval battle. As for how the two of us will be coordinating, especially in an operation that requires face-to-face interactions... The Director will see to that in a moment."

La Trinidad de Manila Academy - 12/25/2022, 5:15, UTC+8

---

@Hyperion338

Upon entering the Academy and having his identity verified, Captain Võ Quôc Tuân was quickly ushered into a military-style command room, which had an oval table with several maps and charts of the West Philippine Sea/South China Sea at its center, as well as a diorama of the various fleets about to engage. There, he would meet three people, having just missed Task Force Obsidian's departure.

The first was Director Bathala of the La Trinidad de Manila Academy, a dark-skinned, middle-aged, somewhat heavily-built man who wore platinum-rimmed glasses and a business suit that ill-fit his stocky build. He was rumored to have a Noble Arm with many mysterious powers, powers that matched several other Noble Arms that had been recorded as missing and never 'Inherited'.

Beside Director Bathala, and also facing Captain Tuân was another official, the Director-General of the Philippine Government of National Salvation's "National Intelligence Coordinating Agency", or NICA. This man was Cornelio Malong, an old, thin, wrinkled man with somewhat wispy hair whose Noble Arm, a razor-edged mirror eerily similar to that of the now-chastened Danggal Clan, hovered by his left side.

They had a third guest, a young woman with glossy silvery hair and blue eyes dressed in a ceremonial black, white, and red military uniform, the red being most notable in the stockings and a flowing cape, the black forming the skirt, top, and long sleeves, and the white forming the neck ruffs and sleeve cuffs (?), and all had brass buttons placed strategically. This was Princess Fukuyo of Japan, who, by request of her brother, was kept from further ground operations against the warlords opposing the Philippine Government of National Salvation, and was in an unpleasant mood right now.

"Director Bathala, if you please?" asked (Director-General) Cornelio Malong.

The answer from the stocky, bespectacled man was, "We shouldn't be tipping our hand this easily, but I suppose our good Captain can be trusted..."

And he conjured up a Kalis, a Philippine-style half-wavy, half-straight sword, and opened a portal to the BRP Jose Rizal's Command Room.

---

BRP Jose Rizal - 12/25/2022, 5:10, UTC+8



Admiral Yi Yeol explained to the members of Task Force Obsidian as a portal opened back to the Academy they had just vacated, "The Director's Noble Arm has 'acquired' a... duplicate of the deceased Angelito Jaime's Noble Arm, which allows for unrestricted portals from Point A to Point B, which can grow large enough to swallow Nuclear Missiles and spit them back at their home countries, and is now using it to link TFO and Lotus Squadron's new commander, Captain Võ Quôc Tuân, together in this room. Of course, this power must stay hidden from the Chinese; they must believe that with Angelito's death, we have lost it. But that's not the point; the point is that our fleet will begin moving now, this Christmas, and make contact with the enemy in three days; December 28."

He then turned to Captain Tuân and spoke, "By then, we must clear the enemy skies; they will throw everything they have - Supersonic Jet Fighters, Chinese-made Drones, Mercenaries, and Iranian-made Shaheed Drones with special explosive payloads. Will you deal with them for us?"

Now, to Callie and Cristina, the Admiral gave his reply with, "Good plan, assuming that Cao Bao, our target, is indeed on the Guandong Type-004 Aircraft Carrier the Chinese have. Which brings us to another point: It's not just us that can use deception in battle. If Cao Bao appears on the deck while Lotus Squadron is clearing the skies, it would be an out-of-character move for someone so vital to the PLA Navy's logistics; assume a trap then. But let me correct you two and Henri here: An Aircraft Carrier is big. Even with superpowers or magic, you cannot take all of it, even if it only has Marines and Crew and not Arms Masters, which will be there; it's just that big. So take out Cao Bao or the enemy Arms Masters baiting you to attack a decoy, then return to this ship, or my own, or even La Trinidad de Manila Academy."

Then, to Griff, Admiral Yi Yeol nodded approvingly and said, "You can infer what plans we have if Cao Bao isn't there - Spring their trap and escape with your lives."

@Chiro@Nimbus@Gerlando@Digmata@ctrlsaltdel@Ducksworth@Gerlando

SPC "Mikey" Rangel

---

BRP Jose Rizal - 12/25/2022, 5:03, UTC+8

---

Mikey glanced up at Griff, just briefly. She couldn't see so much as sense his uncertainty, but it didn't worry her. Whatever doubts he had about his ability to act when the chips were down, she didn't share them.

The corner of her mouth did curl up at one corner as his stance shifted to mirror hers. Square up, big guy. The grin faded, by degrees. This fight's gonna make that little scuffle at the refugee camp look like a playground scrap.

She focused her attention back on the Admiral. "Alrighty then. We hang out on board the Jose Rizal until the fleets meet. The PRC Arms Masters--preferably just Cao Bao--should make their presence known on the Guandong, either as part of their own operations or just to spring a trap on us. That's fine on our side, because we're half-expecting them to do it anyway, and whoever else they want to throw at us is almost as good a target anyway." She paused, frowning. "Sounds simple when you put it like that. Uh, admiral."

She glanced over at Callie. The other American on the task force was obviously more than competent, but Mikey had to admit that the degree to which the plan rested on her powers made her nervous. If Callie was taken out--or even just forced to retreat separately... Well, Mikey was at least somewhat confident she could get out. Cristina probably could, as well. But what about the soldiers they'd bring with them? What about Henri, or Nil--or Griff?

She chewed on her lip. No reason to say anything at the moment. After all, she didn't have a better plan--she would just have to make sure this one worked.

Callie nodded. “Sir, requesting permission to disrupt the carriers’ take-off procedure as Lotus Squadron are on approach to their targets.”

Kind way of putting it.

“Cutting their regular patrols off from reinforcements without time to prepare will leave Lotus a free hand and, assessing what we know of Cao Bao and his abilities, should force him and any Arms Masters guarding him to respond and allow us to pounce.”

How many pilots will they send screaming into the flames before he intercedes directly, d’you think?

“Gives us the initiative and them less time and ability to set whatever trap they have in mind,” Callie concluded, adding a look towards Griff that spoke of understanding and surety regardless.

And with it, she caught Mikey’s gaze.

She doubts you.

Rightly.

Just a flicker of surprise and fear and self-loathing and weariness passed across Callie’s face, only a fraction of a second in all – before she smothered it. Summoned the determination necessary of the leader that circumstance had made of her. Charter hasn’t failed me. Won’t fail me now. Won’t fail them.

Just have to be worthy of it.

The mercenary raised her hand as points out another possibility. "Or I could I just trap Cao Bao in the Mirage Space so that we can avoid any traps they planned, at least it would deal with the conventional ones easily." she muttered as the plan slowly forms.

"Regardless I'm getting tired of waiting, so I say let's stop anticipating traps and get into the action part."

Her face clearly shows boredom and bloodlust, ever since she managed to rescue her sister she needed to find a new reason to stay in the Obsidian. The reason that she found for now? The realization that working under this team would grant her the hardest battles, a stupid reason but one that she'll take regardless.

And to be honest, getting the opportunity to see that prince again is a good bonus. He wasn't that bad.

---

Flashback - 2025 4 Dec, 00:41 UTC+8, La Trinidad de Manila Academy, Administration Building, Roof

---

Collab with @Ducksworth and @Nimbus

---

The interior lights of the Administration building had long since been turned off for the day, but the halls were twilit by the glow of the city. They cast long shadows from the window that served to heighten the surreal feeling of a place made for but empty of people. Some people found the sensation unsettling--for Mikey, it was nostalgic. Some of the best nights of her teenage years had been spent climbing walls, jumping fences, and jimmying doors so she and her friends could roam halls just like this, and whether it was that same transgressive pleasure or just nostalgia, something about being in a place she wasn't supposed to still appealed to her.

Yet another part of her mind whispered to her: isn't that what got you into this mess to begin with? If you had just behaved, you wouldn't have gotten arrested, and your parents wouldn't have been picked up.

Mikey swung her head from side to side, as if trying to physically shake the thoughts loose. She turned into one of the offices; its door was unlocked, and she knew the window would already be open.

You could be at home right now, preparing for final exams. Instead, you're on the opposite side of the world, thousands of miles from anyone you know, just so your country can act like they're doing something.

She slithered out the window, planting her feet on the decorative balcony below. The facing of the building, thankfully, was rough plaster, and it had plenty of large grooves.

You could have done anything--you could have been an engineer, or a therapist, or a forest ranger. Instead, because of your fuckup, you're a soldier. A weapon.

She gripped the makeshift handholds, planted her feet, and then surged up the couple of feet between her and the roof with a grunt of effort.

A killer.

Mikey got a forearm up on the roof and began to haul herself up, but stopped awkwardly. Someone was already up there, and the lights of the city made it clear who.

Oh, fuck. Griff.

She hadn't spoken to him since what went down earlier at the refugee camp.

At first, there had just been too much to do for them to have a conversation. But even once the work suitable for Arms Masters was done, she had done her best to avoid other people in general, and Griff in particular. She felt too ashamed of her actions--hadn't even worked through them herself yet--to look him in the eye, especially after she had left him standing alone in front of the infiltrators.

The plan had been to come up here, where she thought no one else would be, and get blind drunk until the voices were quiet enough for her to think; she hadn't counted on... well, anyone. Unable to process what to do next, Mikey froze in place--four stories up, just the top half of her head peeking over the wall.

It felt quieter up here. Not silent, but distant, muted by height, wind, and the soft hum of lights below. Griff sat near the edge of the rooftop with his back resting against a low wall. His knees were drawn up, elbows balanced loosely atop them, his hands hanging forward. His shoulders ached. His ribs pulled tight with every breath. But he was still breathing, and for now, that was enough.

He heard movement. The scrape of shoes on plaster, the sharp drag of fabric against rough walls. Someone climbing. He didn’t turn to look. There was a short pause in the sound, just long enough to tell him whoever it was had stopped halfway up, hanging there undecided, it gave him enough to guess who it might be.

“I was wondering if someone would show up,” he said, voice low and steady. “Didn’t think it’d be you.”

Mikey weighed her options. Up or down? Up meant confronting one of the primary sources of her... whatever was going on in her head. She wasn't sure she could do that.

On the other hand, down meant abandoning her teammate again. Stupid thought; melodramatic, even, but there it was--and she was sure she couldn't do that.

She pulled herself up with a grunt of effort and walked softly over Griff. Thank god he hadn't turned around; she didn't think she could have looked him in the eye. Instead of sitting next to him, Mikey posted up on the other side of that low wall, facing the opposite direction. Without speaking, she reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a pair of glass bottles--peach soju, one of the few drinks she knew from experience she could tolerate. She placed one on the wall behind her with a clink, then opened the other and drained as much of the clear, sweet drink as she could in one pull.

Instead of setting the bottle down, she fidgeted with it, staring at the light playing through its tinted glass as her mind raced, trying to think of anything to say.

Griff didn’t turn when she climbed the rest of the way up. He heard the quiet scrape of her boots, the small grunt of effort, and then the soft clink of glass placed on the wall behind him. That was all the confirmation he needed.

“I thought I came up here to be alone,” he said quietly, “but I’m glad you’re here.” He let that sit, honest and unforced. “I saw how you moved, back at the breach. Fast. Sharp. Exactly like someone trained to survive.” His tone held no weight, no bitterness. Just quiet admiration, maybe even a little pride. He reached for the bottle she’d left on the wall, curling his fingers around the neck, but didn’t open it. He just held it for a moment, letting the cold rest in his palm. “I’m glad you did.”

A single hiccuping sob came from the other side of the wall before Mikey could get herself under control. She yanked her sunglasses down over her eyes, swearing indistinctly as they got tangled in her hair. The mirrored shades hid her eyes, but the tears rolling down her face reflected the lights of Manila almost as well.

"Y-yeah," She managed to get the word out; took a deep, ragged-sounding breath. "Yeah, I got all s-sorts of fuckin' training." She took another dram of her bottle; in her haste some the liquor went down the wrong pipe, and triggered a hacking cough. It took her a second to compose herself again, but once she did she looked over to the side. Not turning far enough around to look directly at Griff, but enough that, out of the corner of her eye, she could see his shape against the night sky.

"...you're ok, right?"

Griff took a breath before answering, steady and slow.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m okay.” He shifted slightly, wincing as the motion pulled at his ribs. “Sore, though. Everything hurts more now that the adrenaline’s worn off.” He rested the bottle against his thigh for a moment, thumb tracing the edge of the label. “The gauntlets... or whatever they are now. I didn’t know they could do that. Up until today, they were just there. Part of me, but dead weight. Nothing more.”

He paused, jaw shifting slightly as he rolled the memory around in his head. “I stopped a truck with my bare hands.” The laugh came unprompted, quiet and short, caught between disbelief and something close to nerves. It broke off into a soft hiss as he winced again, one hand pressing gently to his side. “Not something I thought I’d ever say out loud.” He leaned back against the wall, eyes flicking once toward the skyline before softening. “But honestly, I’ve been more worried about you.”

The sound she made might have been either a laugh or a sob; it was impossible to tell which. "Shit, stopped it? I could see the whole thing, you punched right through the engine block. You looked like a superhero out there."

Mikey trailed off, turning her head away from Griff again to look over the buildings. "I'm..." She placed the half-empty bottle of soju on the graveled roof, rolling the bottom of it in a circle. Took a deep breath, let it back out. "...I never told anyone this, but I always thought--hoped, I guess--that if I ever did find myself in combat, I'd just freeze up. Not be able to pull the trigger. Then they'd can me, and that would be its own problem, but it wouldn't be my decision anymore." She paused. "Or I'd get killed, and I don't know what happens after that." Another one of those sob/laughs. "Not my problem, I guess."

Griff didn’t answer right away. He let the sound of her voice, rough and laughing through tears, settle.

“I think about that too,” he said. “Freezing up. Failing to move. Letting someone else take the choice away.” His thumb ran along the rim of the bottle, slow and idle. “But we didn’t. Neither of us. And that’s not nothing.” He didn’t try to meet her with comfort or explain it away. Just sat with the truth of it, as it was. “I don’t think it’s weakness, hoping it’d be out of your hands. It’s human.” His gaze stayed on the lights ahead, but his voice softened. “You did what you had to. And I’m glad you’re still here to wrestle with that.”

Sniffle. "I guess." Cough, sniffle. "I’m glad yer here, too. I just..." Rustling, as she stepped over and saw on the bit of rooftop they'd been using as a backrest. She sat next to Griff, but still couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. Instead she waited, collecting her words, both of them gazing out onto the night.

(It was hard to see at night, especially on her complexion, but little points of blush had appeared on her cheeks, and the edges of her words had begun to soften.)

"I jus' wish I had your conviction about it being the right thing. That I’m still a person, an’ not a murderer."

“You’re asking the question. That’s a good sign in itself,” intoned a calm, quiet and not unkind voice behind them, the only prior warning of its presence a light tap of boots stepping onto concrete from a few dozen metres away and below.

Callie smiled gently down at the pair, ever-faithful spyglass clutched in hand. “Sorry to butt in, just…” Her gaze fell on Mikey, ocean-blue eyes deep and unreadable in the darkness. “Late bloomer, right? Got put in AM training as an adjunct to Basic?”

Mikey had gone stiff, hearing the strange voice--more a juvenile reaction to getting caught than anything--but relaxed by degrees when she realized who they had been caught by. She glanced up at Callie (barely able to make out her face through the shades, but she wasn’t ready to take them off) and nodded. "Yea, pretty much."

A nod returned in answer. “Given a soldier’s lessons. Told that there are orders to obey and hostiles to neutralise, or worse. Never that the ones we’re killing are other people. Us and it.”

Callie shook her head; let herself down, kicking one leg out and resting her hands on the knee of the other. “Good on you for fighting that. Bad enough for soldiers, but for us? With the power in our hands?” She thumbed the polished surface of her spyglass. “We can’t ignore the weight. You stop seeing lives as costly, you stop caring how many pay that cost.”

Griff had heard the footsteps before the voice, calm, composed, and unfamiliar for a heartbeat. He tilted his head slightly as Callie stepped into view and settled nearby. Her words landing with the calm weight of someone who’d seen a few things and decided to carry them anyway. He didn’t speak, for now, just listened.

But somewhere in the quiet, something shifted in his chest. That second man, the one with the pipe. The way his ribs gave under the punch, the way his body dropped… He hadn’t looked back, there hadn’t been time. But now, sitting still, his body aching and his thoughts slower, the memory hit colder. Had he killed him?

His stomach dipped, breath catching for a second before he forced it down. He couldn’t afford to spiral here. Not now, not while Mikey was still figuring out how to hold herself together. His fingers curled tighter around the bottle beside him, grounding himself in the gravel and cold glass. Then he spoke, voice steady again. ”You’re not alone in this.”

Mikey glanced over at Griff's face for the first time since she had come up to the roof. The way he was gripping it, she was surprised he hadn't crushed the bottle, and his expression seemed just as tight.

He was clearly trying to keep a tight hold on things. Mikey hoped it wasn't for her sake. She had her suspicions, but just at the moment, she wasn't sure she could bear that burden. She didn't voice any of that, though; instead, she put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed hard. She opened her mouth to say something to him, but her voice caught; instead, she stayed silent and removed her hand.

Standing up, she turned to face Callie. "So if I ever stop feeling this... this..." She fumbled for words, gave up. this, it's because I'm a monster." Her words were a little too loud; the half-empty bottle of soju sitting on the low wall accounted for that. "That fucking sucks!"

Without warning, she whipped around to face the edge of the roof. As she turned, a whorl of dark color coalesced in her hand into the form of her Noble Arm, and in the same motion she pitched the little rifle over the edge. It sailed end-over-end above the courtyard, but as it began to fall towards the ground, it seemed to encounter an invisible barrier of some kind, and as it passed through, it vanished in the same manner it had appeared.

Mikey took a pair of unsteady steps backwards, then half-fell onto the ground to sit between the other two soldiers. "Sorry," she mumbled."I just... it’s all a mess. I’m all a mess, right now."

Callie sat up, swinging herself onto her knees. Carefully, gently, she rested a hand on Mikey’s. “You’re well within your rights. And it does sucks, God knows it does. But Griff’s right too.” She paused, considering - focusing. “A few months back, during the Mischief Reef op, I drowned a man. Priority target, Arms Master, so I poured water into his lungs from two hundred klicks away. Nothing he could do.” For a moment, Callie’s expression tensed as she marshalled much of her will to fight the instinct to close her eyes, knowing exactly what would lie behind them. “Sight of it shook me so bad I got held back in reserve for the whole of the next mission. I still think about him. I still think about… Lots of things.”

For just a moment, the hand shivered - then stilled, as Callie took a breath. “But if I hadn’t done that, the Chinese counterattack on the Reef might not have failed, and a lot more ASEAN soldiers would have died.” And despite it all, she looked up into Mikey’s face and smiled a soft, half-formed smile. “Gotta remember those people too. Doesn’t make up for it but it does help for carrying on anyway - and from what I saw, which was just about everything, I think a lot of people in that camp are better off for you having been there.”

“You don’t feel it now, I know. Just remember it. And in the meantime, like Griff says - you’ve got people you can lean on.”

Mikey watched Callie as she spoke, expression pained. She knew the words were meant to be comforting. On a purely intellectual level, they sort of were.

She did close her eyes for a second--she didn't have Callie's experience to tell her not to--and was overtaken by a flash of memory. People running, but not fast enough to avoid being cut down by staccato bursts of gunfire--a strange sense of calm--the crack-crack-crack of her rifle as she took the gunner in center mass.

She rested her other hand on Callie's and squeezed--maybe a little too hard--and leaned bonelessly against Griff's side. "I was jus' gonna get drunk about it," she said weakly. "An' then you guys had to come around wit' all this supportive crap." A hiccuping laugh punctuated her protest.

Griff didn’t shift when she leaned against him. Just the light weight of her shoulder pressing against his side, but it hit deeper than that, settled into his ribs in a different way that the bruises. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t want to - Didn’t need to.

She had squeezed his shoulder earlier, and now she leaned on him. It wasn’t much but it was enough to make him sit a little straighter, not out of pride, not to impress anyone, just for her, in this moment. Somewhere in the ache behind his eyes, in the spot where all the noise of the day hadn’t quite faded, it felt like he could breathe a little easier just knowing she was still here, still fighting, even if it meant leaning on someone.

And, it was strange, maybe, how grounding she was, even like this. Even crying, even drunk, even messy. Or maybe that was why? Because she didn’t pretend, because she trusted him enough to fall apart next to him, and that made him want to be better, just so she could lean on him, just so she could believe she could.

Callie shifted again to prop herself up on one elbow, even as she left the other hand in Mikey’s grip. She looked down at it, felt the desperate strength it held… And sighed, barely perceptibly, with bitter satisfaction.

Not as it should be - nothing of this was - but she’d said her piece for a reason. Better felt now than later, and armed when later came.

Another sigh - and then she looked up at Griff with eyes used to catching details miles distant from them. Saw the tension, mastered and suppressed, in his… Well, just about everything. And when he noticed her gaze, she offered a quiet nod and smiled that half-smile again.

Griff met Callie’s eyes. There was no need for words between them. Her nod wasn’t just sympathy, but understanding. He knew she could see it, the way he held himself still, like the wrong movement might crack something open wouldn’t be right, right now. She knew what it cost to keep steady when something inside you wasn’t.

He looked back without flinching, but something in him tightened. He hadn’t thought about it at the time, and that was part of the problem. He hadn’t hesitated, he hadn’t held back. He saw a target and he hit it–hard. But he wasn’t a soldier, he was just a kid playing at being one because some ordained special ‘weapon’ chose him for whatever reason. He was just trying to help, to be useful for once.

But when he thinks back to the body dumpling beneath his fist, what rattles him most is how natural it felt, how easy it was, like it was the gauntlets themself that had made the decision for him. He hadn’t even questioned it until it was all over.

Mikey was next to him now, falling apart because she knew she had killed someone. But for Griff? He knew that he could, and probably would again, if the situation presented itself, without hesitation, to protect. And that was the cold stone stuck behind his ribs. But now, Mikey needed him, and if it meant she could lean on him like this, trust him like this, then he’d carry that weight for both of them.

He held Callie’s gaze for a breath longer, then gave a small, solemn nod. It wasn’t gratitude, just acceptance, acknowledgement like ’Yeah. I’m still here.’

Mission Five - La Naval de Manila, Segunda Vez/Segundo Beses/Second Time

West Philippine Sea Airspace - 12/25/2022, 5:19, UTC+8

Lotus Squadron sliced through the air, each pilot's jet flying like a silvery dart as they cleared the skies, firing lines of death that caused the enemy's cockpits to ignite into blossoms of flame. They knew what Cao Bao could do - reassemble physical objects that had been broken, teleporting them to his side. This could restore the wounded, but not bring the dead back to life; corpses were reconstituted intact and fresh, but were still corpses.

Drones were another matter, especially the newfangled fiber-optic ones made by the Russians and sold to the Communist Chinese. These can be destroyed and reassembled as many times as Cao Bao's energy permitted it, same for the Iranian Shaheed Drones and other, faster, prototype models that, though easily brought down by a dedicated pilot, were still a swarm of metallic pests.

Nevertheless, in three days, the quality of the PLA Air Force and whoever else they got to pilot for them had been reduced; the same planes still flew, but the twists and turns were more basic, the lucky hits fewer, and the overall willingness to engage danger less.

Those three days were enough for Admiral Yi Yeol to move into position to engage the PLA Navy as his own flotilla advanced halfway to Scarborough Shoal; there, in the open waters of the West Philippine Sea, they would fight the decisive engagement of the ASEAN War...

---

BRP Jose Rizal - 12/28/2022, 5:00, UTC+8



Callie could see him, either through Charter or more mundane means (spy drones existed).

Cao Bao was walking the deck of the Guandong Type-004 Nuclear Aircraft Carrier, reconstituting the latest jets brought down by Lotus Squadron particle by particle. It was the first time in those three days that the black-coated, well-muscled, weary-faced officer whose stubble and the cigarette just above it expressed a constant burden of aggravation strode so openly; before that, the jets just reconstituted on the ship's deck, the drones, likewise.

Admiral Yi Yeol knew it was a trap; he wasted no time telling Callie and Cristina that over the radio.

"Specialist Lindmann, Volunteer Bernardino," his voice crackled, "This is not the real Cao Bao, but an impostor; his file marks him as too... self-preserving to show himself just when the battle is starting. Special Agent Makraig... You're in reserve as we are going to spring that trap."

The noise of explosions from ships too far away to see were already reaching their ears, even in the BRP Jose Rizal's communications tower, where they had gathered to make better use of Callie and Myron's Noble Arms. Inside, they could see the mass of monitors and panels, manned by cool-headed, mundane personnel who sorted through the data that flowed through bundles of fiber optic cables that fed the blocky, modular consoles.

Admiral Yi Yeol continued, "Task Force Obsidian goes in, takes out the Imposter and those protecting him, then gets out. Do not try and take the Aircraft Carrier for yourself; assuming that the real Cao Bao is still alive elsewhere, focus on killing enemy personnel. But if you must capture someone, have Henri use his Anti-Magic Field to remove Cao Bao's 'marks' from them and their equipment. Now, Move Out; we have a war to win..."

---

Type-004 Guandong-class Nuclear Aircraft Carrier - 12/25/2022, 5:19, UTC+8



Newly built, but hardly bloodied, the Type-004 Guandong-class Nuclear Aircraft Carrier was the flagship of the People's Liberation Army Navy. Weighing up to 110,000 tons and capable of carrying up to a hundred aircraft, its steel-gray deck was a landscape of its own, brimming with just-restored fighter jets and a smattering of helicopters and drones. Beside a stealth bomber, Cao Bao waited for Task Force Obsidian, standing there as they portaled or teleported in - A sign that this was an impostor.

'Cao Bao' stood tall, then dissolved into what seemed like iron filings. From boxes of maintenance equipment, prefabricated armor plates, and boxes of metal with no discernible purpose except to serve as barricades emerged the barrels of anti-materiel and heavy machine guns, along with the occasional grenade launcher.

Then someone strolled from around the corner of a large cargo container.



"Hey, hey, hey!" the young man in flamboyant but torn clothes that looked straight out of a Wuxia film said. "My name is Wu Shufen, the Second Monkey King! I'm the Monkey of the Zodiac - The People's Republic of China's Zodiac, not the imitation ones you guys have!"

Still in his chipper tone as he waved about his quarterstaff, he continued, "Now, I won't ask you guys to surrender; Huo Ren's a black mark on us and so is Ai Chen and Yulian is still alive as far as I know, so let's fight; the most wily wins!"

@Chiro@Nimbus@Gerlando@Digmata@ctrlsaltdel@Ducksworth@Gerlando@Hyperion338

---

Cristina wordlessly set everyone back in the real world as she looked at the carrier, for something that is meant to be a trap the place sure feel pointlessly empty.

Wu Shufen, she wasn't really sure what should she feel about the monkey of the Zodiac. She's not stupid enough to presume his foolishness although judging for how he acts, he is definitely a confident young man. Well they either die early or prove their bluster, in this case she is thinking it's the latter. But considering how he acts, he might an improvement to that dragon.

It seems that whatever battle that will take place, won't start without anyone of them taking the initiative and with stealth being not an option, there is nothing for her to use but her speed.

"Very well, I appreciate the honesty." Cristina declared as she summoned Sinagtala, leading a head on charge to the Monkey of the Zodiac while she keeps an eye to the barrels around her. A well timed blink should give her a good opening to an attack.

SPC "Mikey" Rangel

---

---

Her heart was pounding, her face felt locked in place, but her hands were steady. They had a plan. Last time, no one had known the fight was coming, no one was prepared, no one had a plan. Things had been pure chaos. And--even then, they had handled it. This time, they knew what they were heading into. They were organized, and they had a clear objective.

How can we lose, right?

Mikey knocked lightly on the wood of her rifle.

Then, out of the endless starscape of Mirage Space, the world rushed towards her. Mikey half-fell forward, coming to her knees even as she raised Angel Duster skyward.

From what she had been told, Arms Masters could survive trauma that would kill most people without a Noble Arm. Particularly powerful Arms Masters had been known to survive direct rifle hits to the head or heart; a good number of them, she had observed, wore no protection at all, presumably trusting in their powers to keep them alive. Mikey was not a particularly powerful Arms Master as such things were judged--and even if she had been, she probably would still have insisted on wearing the armored vest. That same awareness of her own relative weakness also dictated her tactics.

Mikey had acquired her target almost instantly. That was simpler than it might sound, given that she was aiming at the carrier's bridge. Her shot was good, and a moment after the little .30 round pinged the radar Mikey dropped to all fours on the roof.

(Wait, didn't they have a weird boat name for the roof? Nevermind--I do not have time for this.)

The brass casing shone in the sun; as she caught the ejected bullet out of the air, it expanded into a whorl of color that resolved into the form of a six-round grenade launcher. Pwmp-pwmp-pwmp-pmwp-pwmp-pmwp--she pumped the rounds into the PLA troops prepared ambush. Impenetrable white smoke rose from where the rounds hit. Mikey didn't know the bulkhead from the head as far as ships were concerned, but she wasn't stupid enough to use high explosives indiscriminately on a flight deck surrounded by thousands of gallons of jet fuel, and she hoped that the troops manning those weapons would be at least as smart given the lack of visibility.

Type-004 Guandong-class Nuclear Aircraft Carrier - 12/25/2022, 5:19, UTC+8

Nil didn’t really engage in the planning, but it was simple enough.
Callie teleports us in, we kill Cao Bao, Callie teleports us out.
Now it only changed a little.
Callie teleports us in, we kill fake ‘Cao Bao’, Callie teleports us out.

And now the fake Cao Bao reduced itself to a bunch of scrap and crates…
_{mission complete?}

Couldn’t they leave now that the fake Cao is gone? This is, as they call it, sketchy as fuck, is there really a point to dealing with this sassy child if he’s coming back anyway? This could just be an unnecessary risk.
”Uh… why stay, os?”

Unfortunately she wouldn’t be able to hear any reply with her earmuffs on, fortunately they also silenced most of a nearby gunshot. ‘Myke’ had started firing, and Nil wouldn’t trail far behind her as Stang’s copies had already been prepared before teleporting in.

One, Two staffs were flung straight to Wu Shufen, breaking the sound barrier in between Task Force Obsidian and their lone opponent. But the sonic blasts weren’t the most damaging output, as the projectiles themselves had enough force (comparable to a tank round) to damage, but not completely wreck, the upper deck.

In the moment they were fired, the Noble Arm projectiles completely dwarfed any regular gun.
That should do something, hopefully.

Before she could confirm the effects from the first two stangs, she launched a third stang against the carrier’s conning tower to wreck it somewhat.

Unfortunately Mikey’s smoke bombs made it hard to tell whether this third shot did much damage or not. Not only to gauge the ship’s armor, but whether the real Cao Bao was repairing the ship during battle or not.

Lotus Squadron were back in the air doing a final sweep of the area before the naval operation could begin. They were tired after the major air battle they had fought just days prior, some of the debris still present on the ocean below. They knew they would probably be involved in the naval operation as well, but they still had to finish this sweep.

Everyone's Su-30MK2s had held up well over the last few days, with only minor glitches in the OPL code that could be corrected or bypassed mid-flight and the same was expected for the rest of the operation, but they were prepared in case bigger problems with the code popped up.

A small flight popped up on Tuân's IRST display, a pair of WZ-7 reconnaissance drones. Tuân expected that reinforcements would arrive once they shoot down the drones, but they couldn't leave the drones in the air. If Lotus left them up, they could locate the fleet and provide target coordinates for Chinese anti ship missiles. They had to shoot them down.

"Alright Lotus. We need to take out these drones. We leave them up and they can cause big problems for the fleet. Be ready for J-15s once they're shot down." Tuân said as his WSO attempted to obtain a weapons grade radar lock, but the radar couldn't obtain it. "Well, can't get a radar lock. Lotus 2, 3 and 4 switch to IRST. Everyone else, you're on CAP duty. Keep your radars on. This might get spicy." Tuân said as he switched his weapons to his R-27ETs.

Based on intelligence reports, if weapons grade radar locks couldn't be obtained on the WZ-7, they would have to use one of two available Fox 2s, the R-27ET and the R-73. But because of the seeker onboard the R-27ET, the missile would have to get much closer to the WZ-7 to be able to track the drone compared to the R-73, but it's still better for stealth attacks considering the R-73s much shorter flight distance.

Tuân and Lotus 2 moved towards the WZ-7 to the north, attempting to get behind it without being detected, while 3 and 4 moved south to engage the second. The rest of Lotus Squadron knew the drill and assigned themselves to different sectors as needed. Lotus Squadron had such a large search range on their radars and IRST that they operate even without an AWACS, although AWACS was still superior, especially when they finally get around to enhancing an AWACS with OPL.

It took Tuân getting within 90km for to get a weapons grade IR lock on the WZ-7 because of the measures the Chinese took in reducing the IR signature, but OPL had an answer for that. "Lotus 1, Fox 2!" Tuân called over the radio as he launched the R-27ET. The missile would still need to get close to begin tracking the drone, but it would get there.

Shortly after, the same call for a Fox 2 being fired came from Lotus 3. Now it was just a waiting game for the missiles to hit. Luckily, the R-27ET's seeker was passive, so the drone and by extension wouldn't get an alert warning until impact. Eventually, Tuân's missile impacted the WZ-7 and dropped off the IRST display. "Lotus 1, target down." Tuân called over the radio.

Then a call came over the radio from Lotus 6. Four J-15s inbound from the north-east. Lotus 1 and 2 switched their radars on and started tracking the J-15s. Most of Lotus Squadron readied their RVV-AEs, enhanced with OPL to have a more comparable range to the SD variant. As the J-15s grew closer, they unwittingly moved within range of a weapons grade lock from a beam aspect. "Lotus 1, Fox 3!" Tuân said shortly after launching an RVV-AE. Lotus 2, 5 and 6 followed suit with their own Fox 3s.

A call shortly came over the radio that Lotus 3's Fox 2 had hit the remaining WZ-7. Now all that was left was to handle the support. Luckily, OPL allowed the active radar on board the RVV-AE to activate sooner, meaning Lotus didn't need to maintain the lock for very long. After half a minute, the missiles began guiding themselves, but there was a problem. The OPL stealth shielding provided by the OPL had failed on two of the RVV-AEs, alerting the J-15s to the incoming missiles. The two began attempting to evade and popping chaff everywhere in an attempt to shake off the missiles. The other two also begun to evade, but didn't pop as much chaff. The missiles were more resistant to chaff, but not completely immune. One of the missiles hit and took down its intended target, but the other one didn't.

Lotus 1's missile hit the J-15 and the resulting explosion ripped off one of the wings, causing it to fall out of the sky, hurtling towards the ocean below. "Lotus 1, target down." Tuân confirmed over the radio. Lotus 2's missile however didn't hit, as the J-15 had managed to do enough to evade the missile. There were still two J-15s left and that's if they didn't call for reinforcements.

Tuân and Lotus 2 had already begun to close in on the remaining J-15s, with Lotus 3 and 4 coming in to support from the south. Tuân got within range of his R-73s, obtained a lock and called "Lotus 1, Fox 2!" over the radio as he launched an R-73. Lotus 2 followed up with his own R-73.

Despite both J-15s best efforts with both evasive maneuvers and flares, both missiles scored hits and destroyed both aircraft.

As Tuân flew over where the J-15s previously were, he saw the parachutes of the Chinese pilots who had managed to eject. He knew they would be fine. After continuing to loiter over the area for about ten more minutes, no additional contacts popped up on radar.

"Alright, good work Lotus Squadron. RTB." Tuân said over the radio and Lotus left the AO.

Above the BRP Jose Rizal, hovering in a patrol helicopter enshrouded in clouds, Callie loosed the energy that had just allowed Cristina to fall a couple of hundred kilometres in a second and let the marrow-deep chill born of divesting herself of that much energy at once melt into her rising adrenaline.

She scanned the battlefield, Charter bypassing the vapour and distance to let her see the deck of the carrier clearly – Obsidian’s operatives exploding out from Mirage Space, Cao Bao’s façade falling away entirely as anticipated, the expected trap sprung… Her current vantage point gave her all of the visibility she needed, the free-falling and launching of the Mischief Reef mission, there used to seek angles into the tower windows of altogether too many ships, unnecessary for this strike.

Instead, she placed her focus clearly: a portal in the shape of a lattice of arches, each element wide as an atom and invisible to the eye, that with the movement of the carrier slashed at and severed the series of radio antennae attached to the end of its flight deck. Theoretically, that would make it profoundly difficult, if not impossible, for the flagship to communicate with the rest of the fleet… Unless Cao Bao was here to repair it.

…and, apparently, the mayhem that Nil had elected to unleash on her surrounds.

Smoke won’t last on a moving ship but Chinese positions are ineffectual for now, thanks to Mikey, she affirmed, a slight smile forming in the back of her mind. Comes down to the antiquarians, then – Cao Bao if he’s here plus the Wukong cosplayer. Seems unserious but that’s a pattern with Zodiac and doesn’t –

Awareness. Horrifying, visceral awareness.

Occam; likely him – could be misdirection – enemy almost certainly doesn’t know of this ability to try deception – alert them now!

Callie knew that their air support would be able to chain communications from the strike force to the Rizal and from there, with the ship’s powerful transmitters to pierce the cloud, up to the helicopter – that was how she was going to get the team’s evac orders. She knew that it might work in the other direction, too. But she didn’t know how much clarity the message would reach them with and right now they needed clarity.

Instead, she simply joined space a couple of hundred kilometres apart once more – a far smaller portal this time, opened in an instant – and spoke directly into Mikey’s handheld radio.

“Obsidian, imminent threat from your own Arms! Sergeant Janssens, you are unaffected – neutralise that antiquarian, now!”

@Chiro